


don't you wanna save this dirty little damsel?

by Ellerigby13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Misogyny, Steve has some antiquated viewpoints but he's not an asshole, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-31 13:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellerigby13/pseuds/Ellerigby13
Summary: It started with a simple question in Tony's lab.  And it ended up in a small town strip club, where nobody recognizes four Avengers in civilian clothes sitting in the back.  Needless to say, even when he was in the ice, Steve has never had a more uncomfortable birthday.But amidst the smoke, the lights, and the skintight red, white, and blue, one Darcy Lewis is out to start some literal and figurative fireworks.For the Steve Rogers 100th Birthday Celebration :)Title comes from Natalia Kills's "Problem."  Prompts included: Fireworks, Baseball, Small Town, and Red, White, and Blue.





	1. you know what they say about me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for checking this out :) This story will come in 3 parts, to be published over Fourth of July week, and will feature a non-canon Darcy Lewis and the occasional original character. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, because it needs to be said, I've done a bit of strip club historical research (which must have been amusing for the NSA agent in charge of my browser history), and strip clubs were not super popular until after Steve and Bucky had both gone underground, which is why they're confused about it in the beginning. And of course, this fic is not canon compliant and lives in a fantasyverse post Captain America: The Winter Soldier.
> 
> I own only my creative ideas and characters :)

Captain America’s 100th birthday was a cause for excitement at the Avengers compound, especially because it was the first Fourth of July since the Avengers had been formed that there was no imminent threat to the American public, therefore they’d all be together to celebrate.

Steve, for his part, hadn’t wanted to do anything.  Maybe crack a few Asgardian cold ones with Thor, Bucky, and Sam, put on that  _ Independence Day _ movie he’d been meaning to watch, go to bed early so he could take his run in the morning before the day got too hot.  He was a simple man, with simple wishes, so it was baffling to him as to why nobody wanted to go the simple route.

But then the lab conversation had happened, on a total whim, just days before and Steve had let more slip than he knew to intend.

“So, Cap,” Tony started out, flicking on the screens that he and Banner and Cho shared, his fingers sliding effortlessly across the holograms.  “Heard you’re hitting the big 1-Oh-Oh soon. What’s the plan? Vegas? Yachts? Every strip club in the greater East Coast?” At that moment, Steve’s eyebrows probably knotted together, as they did when he was confused, and then that Tony’s smile lit up, joyful and mischievous at once.  “Cap...c’mon.  _ Tell  _ me you had some big plans.”

“Strip club?” he repeated dumbly, filing a hand backward through his hair.  He’d been growing out his beard, much to Tony’s discomfort and Thor’s enjoyment.  The grin on Tony’s face widened.

“Holy shit.  You’ve never gone to a strip club.”  Steve was silent, chewing on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything that might get him into trouble.  In hindsight, it was most likely the silence that got him the most trouble. “Christ, Rogers, you know what a strip club  _ is _ ?”

“Bail, Steve,” Bruce was mumbling, passing by him conveniently with a long metal utensil that looked disconcertingly like a barbecue fork.  “Bail immediately.”

“FRIDAY, I need you to get Barnes down here ASAP.”  Steve kept mum while Tony organized the interrogation, but Bruce was still shaking his head and looking deeply concerned.  After a while, Bucky had made his way down from the training room, sweat clinging to his muscle tee and dripping from his skin.  He must’ve been working with Romanoff. “Barnes,” said Tony briskly, making the ‘come-hither’ motion with his finger, which elicited a rather confused look from Bucky.  “You ever been to a strip club?”

Bucky did the same as Steve had, repeated it in a dumb tone and kept looking confused.  Steve would’ve thought it impossible for Tony’s smile to widen, but at the awkward silence that fell after the sixth utterance of those unholy words “ _ strip club,” _ his lips nearly wrapped around his head.

“Bruce, you got plans for Fourth of July?”

“Tony,  _ no _ \- ”

“Don’t worry, buddy, the big guy’ll be fine.  Pressure won’t be on you. We gotta get these dinosaurs to the titty bar.”  As the final words left his mouth, it clicked.

He wasn’t  _ exactly  _ certain of how it came out, but he had a feeling that the next phrase to escape his lips sounded something like, “YouwantmeandBuckytogotoa _ brothel _ withyou?”

Now, in spite of what Fury had wanted the public to think, Steve was not a damn saint.  But he wouldn’t have come within a hundred feet of a brothel back in the 40s and he absolutely wouldn’t’ve done it now.

“Strip clubs aren’t  _ brothels _ , Rogers,” Tony corrected, shaking his head with a satisfied smirk.  “No, no, no. Just trust me, alright? This is gonna be the best 100th birthday celebration you’ve ever seen.”

That was how the mess had started.  And that was why now, in a small town in upstate New York where few people would likely know the difference between Steve Rogers in his civvie clothes and your average juiced up military man, Steve was sitting in the back row of the alleged strip club, flanked by the two scientists and his best friend, only one of whom appeared happy to be there.

“See anything you like out here, Birthday Cap?” Tony shouted over the thumping music, and Steve winced as the strobe lights began to flare, darkness covering most of the large room.

“Yeah, the exit sign.”

Tony waved him off and clapped appreciatively at the slim blonde who’d taken the stage, flinging her sleek ponytail over her shoulder before she did things to the pole that would’ve gotten her arrested back in Steve’s day.

See, it wasn’t so much the act of doing stuff to the poles that skeeved him out.  It wasn’t the flailing legs and the bouncing, or even the skin-tight bikinis and bodysuits that left barely anything to the imagination.  Shockingly, it wasn’t even the men who wolf-whistled and howled and waved dollar bills at these women like they didn’t have wives and children at home.

No, it was that they’d now watched three separate young women take the stage, and he could  _ see _ it in each of their eyes.  First that flaming overconfidence, like they were acknowledging how tight and lithe their bodies looked, undulating up there for everyone, knowing that all eyes were on them.  Then realizing that all eyes were on them and that moment of self-consciousness, as though they wished they were doing this in someone else’s body, so they could leave the reality of it, if just for a moment.  And then that moment of resignation. Like they were coming clean with themselves that  _ no, this was real _ , and then trying to think of anything else: the bills at home, the homework they had to finish later tonight, the laundry they’d left in the dryer and needed to fold as soon as they got back.

Maybe he was wrong, though.  He was new to all this; who was he to judge?

“I think we need to get a Cap dance up in here,” Tony was announcing, trying to stand and bending at the waist like a rubbery doll from the sixth or seventh shot he’d just downed in the last hour and a half.  Bruce grabbed his arm, progressively looking more and more concerned about the situation pretty much since they’d left the Avengers compound, and Tony dropped back into his seat.

Bucky, surprisingly, was starting to look amused with the whole situation - probably because of how uncomfortable it was making Steve.

“Never thought I’d say this, but I think Stark’s right.  Lemme get a hold of one of the girls in charge here.” He slipped past Steve, like he’d done this a million times before, and proceeded down towards the counter to converse with a tall, sturdy brunette woman with hoop earrings Steve could’ve fit his arm through.

“Mm, how do  _ I  _ know...that he’s gonna pick a good one, though?” Tony slurred, pounding his fist on the armrest of the seat in lieu of a tabletop, which would have much better suited his particular brand of dramatics.

_ Because he’s my best friend and he knows exactly what I like _ , Steve thought dully.  Bucky had pulled shit similar to this before, tucking dirty magazines into Steve’s backpack when they’d been in school (and cackling when he’d admitted that Sarah Rogers found them and took a wooden spoon to Steve, even though he was sixteen, and cursed in Gaelic as he yelped in pain), and he’d apparently took note of which models and which pages made the tips of Steve’s ears burn red hot.

He’d known Peggy, too.  And in the short time that he’d had to see the two of them together, he must have noticed the way Steve looked at her with the reverence that he did, because Peggy was...was everything he could’ve dreamed of and more.

This was not the environment to do any of that deep soul-searching, woeful regret stuff, though.  He was getting the feeling that, if he didn’t put on a somewhat joyful face for Tony, they’d be there all night.

“Tony, where’s Rhodes tonight?”

“Mrs. Barbara Rhodes caught wind of what the plan was and firmly put her foot  _ down _ .”  Stark rolled his eyes, tucking his sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose to dim the strobes.  “I, on the other hand, have often found that asking for permission truly is less successful than asking forgiveness.”  Sam was caught up with an event at the veterans center in D.C., and Thor was getting his first Fourth experience with Jane at the observatory.  Not that this would’ve been less awkward had they been around, but Steve might have felt a little reassured with more friendly faces and less eyebrow raising from Tony.

“Mr. Grant, I’ve brought you a present…”  Bucky was grinning, led by the hand of a brunette woman.  A brunette woman who blew every other woman here out of the water.  It was only when noticing the way that the purple bodysuit clung perfectly to her plentiful chest and bloomed into a flowy bunch at her hips that Steve realized she was the only woman in the club not wearing red, white, or blue for the holiday.

“No fucking way,” she said as she locked eyes with him.  But it was with an amused half laugh that she settled into his lap, stringing her arms over his shoulders to grasp the back of his chair.  “Mr. Grant, my ass.” Since leaving for their trip off the Avengers compound grounds, Steve had gone by Joseph Grant, after his father. But as her twinkling eyes bored into his and as she smirked into her dance, he was certain that she  _ knew. _

“So what should I call you?” he asked stiffly.  The whole strip club thing hadn’t been particularly enticing, but he’d be a damn liar if the way she was moving her hips against his right now wasn’t drawing a reaction from him.

“If you want me calling you Grant, you can call me Athena.”  She twirled her arms over her head and spun round slowly, unfazed when Tony slipped a wad of singles into the leg opening of her bodysuit.  The curve of her ass brushed against Steve’s jeans, then planted itself a little more insistently into his lap. “If I get to call you Steve, you can call me Darcy.”  She tilted her head backwards, sending the long, dark waves of her hair cascading down against his chest, close enough that he could smell the lavender in her shampoo.

“Darcy.”  She continued to dance, but as the song shifted from a slow, sultry lilt to an upbeat one that thumped the walls, so shifted her style.  Instead of the gentle unraveling of her hips in a circle against his groin, she started to bounce, turning around to face him, sliding his legs open so she could squeeze herself between them, and Steve watched, trying to keep as straight a face as he could, while she pulled his hands around her waist and to her ass.

“You got it, chief.  You fellas having a good evening so far?”  If she knew who  _ he _ was, she’d certainly know who the rest of them were, but that didn’t appear to worry any of the others.  Tony was pretty drunk, still fixated on the edge between Darcy’s hip and leg, and had graduated from foisting ones on her to foisting twenties.  Bucky was preoccupied with the dame on stage, a leggy blonde whose golden skin contrasted perfectly with the lacy white number she had on. Bruce, on the other hand, was furiously swiping at Candy Crush, his expression stone-still with all the madness going on around him.

When Darcy noticed Steve observing what was around him, she cradled his chin with her hand, pulling his gaze back around to her.

“Hey.”  She pouted, and at that moment a dark curl spiraled into her face, bouncing with her and with the music, and Steve had to fight the urge to brush it away from her cheek, to feel the way her skin would rub against his fingertips.  “Trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  He caught her eyes then, and for a fraction of a second, he thought she was going to lean down and kiss him full on the mouth.  But then the lights in the club flashed wildly, and the girl on stage was filling a pouch with the dollar bills that had collected at her feet.  And Darcy was pushing away from his chair. Her hand ghosted over his thigh as she made her way down the aisle.

“Athena to the stage, Athena to the stage,” boomed the DJ over the loudspeaker, and there she was at the stairs, smiling - or grimacing - at the blonde as she passed, pressing her fingers to the pole.  Steve didn’t know the song that Darcy had chosen to play while she danced, but it reverted to that slow and sultry kind. The way she danced up there, curling her legs around the pole and taking her time to spin around it, drummed a beat in his chest that must’ve been louder than the music.

Judging by the way that cash rained down on the stage and the way that the men in the crowd were howling, Steve wasn’t the only one who’d taken notice.

Something pricked behind his ears.  Something hot and cold at once. It wasn’t jealousy.  It was adrenaline.

Darcy was pacing down the stage, swinging her hips, around the same time that Steve noticed the gaggle of men pushing their buddy toward the front, a wad of dollar bills in his hand.  He brushed it against her, ran it down her front, and tried to shove it down the deep V of her bodysuit. Darcy was trying to push his hand away, her lips twisting with disgust, and before Steve knew it, he was bounding down the aisle toward the stage.

Tony, sobered by the jolt of Steve’s body moving out of his chair, might have been shouting at him not to blow his cover, not to cause a scene, but whatever it was that left his mouth, Steve didn’t hear.

He had his hand on the back of the man’s collar just as his hearing miraculously returned, in time to hear Darcy scream over the music:

_ Dude, stop! _

He caught himself.  She was holding a small black box between herself and the sleazy punk, a small black box that had two little wires at the top and that buzzed menacingly in the space between them.  The guy turned around, looking incredulously at Steve, then gave him a firm shove and marched off cursing.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”  She was glaring at him, but her head was tilted to the side, so it didn’t seem so much that she was angry as confused.  Well, she  _ was  _ angry, hence the little shock box being pointed at him now, but the look in her eyes considered him more than shut him out.  Like she was  _ actually _ trying to figure out what the fuck the matter with him was.

“I’m sorry.”  He put his hands up in surrender, taking a few steps back.  Darcy scooped up the small pile of dollar bills that had gathered on stage in the short time she’d been dancing up there, tucked them in the little purple money pouch that she’d presumably taken her shock box from, put the shock box into the pouch as well, and hopped off, clattering after him in her silvery high heels.

“I can take care of my _ self _ ,” she hissed, and swatted him with the pouch, drawing the confusion of the patrons around them, and from the DJ, who was still playing her song and peering over the top of the booth to see what had happened.

“I can see that.”  He dodged another swat with the pouch and took another cautious step back.  “Look - stop swinging that thing at me - can I take you to dinner?” Finally, she stopped swinging at him, stopped advancing on him.  Steve sighed, glancing out of the corner of his eye to where Bucky was sitting delightedly, watching in on the action, and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “It’s my birthday, and I want to do something I like.”

“Does this mean that  _ I’m _ something you like?”  Her expression had shifted, and the look in her eyes was no longer bordering hostile, but had started to dance toward mischievous.

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes, for Tony had started wolf-whistling at him, pumping his fist like a frat boy.

“If you’re game for celebrating my hundredth with me without giving me an ‘Over the Hill’ card or taking me to another one of these ridiculous places, I’ll consider it.”


	2. im smoking come and put me out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve takes Darcy out, and they get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own anything Marvel, Denny's, or Babe Ruth baseball ;)

“I thought you said you wanted some, and I quote, ‘fine quality dining.’”

Steve’s tone was one of amusement, low over the sound of clinking utensils and dull chatter at the local Denny’s.  Darcy smiled and swirled her French fries around in the small glob of ketchup on her plate before popping them into her mouth.

“Yeah.  They make a mean Bacon Gouda Burger.”  She dusted her salty fingers on her napkin, then pulled her jacket a little tighter around her.  They kept the Denny’s in the little podunk town pretty damn cold, so that when it was summertime that initial walk in the doors was refreshing, but by the time you were sitting for more than ten minutes, you needed to run outside into the heat and humidity to get your jacket out of the car.  “So level with me, Captain Steve. Why am I here with you right now?”

“Because you agreed to come?”  She raised her eyebrows, unconvinced.  He set down his Coke. “Fine. I asked you to come out with me because I think you’re an interesting girl.  You had this...well, this look in your eyes. And when I was back in that club, I got to looking at the other girls and…”  He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “...they had this look in their eye like they were ashamed. And you didn’t.”

He didn’t know what he’d expected for her to do or say in response to that, but it certainly wasn’t for her to purse her lips, raise her eyebrows, and completely break eye contact with him.

_ Shit _ .  “Did I say something wrong?”

She inhaled deeply and exhaled equally deeply, looking back up at him.

“Look, dude.  I know you’ve only been back in the world for the last, what, eight, ten years?  And in those eight-to-ten years, you’ve been shacked up in Avengers-land dealing with aliens and dictators and crazies of all shapes and sizes.”  She paused to sip from her soda. “But, like, the whole ‘you’re different from other girls’ thing? Went outta style a looong time ago.” She was running her fingernails over the tabletop, brushing over the nicks and ridges.  “We all do it for our own reasons. Just because my reasons might be different from the next girl’s doesn’t mean I’m any better than her.”

Steve could feel the blood filling his face.   _ God I’m a fucking idiot. _  But she was still sitting there, though looking thoroughly unimpressed, picking at her cheeseburger and her French fries.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to...I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”  He pushed a lump of syrupy pancake across his plate, listening to the small screech his fork made across the porcelain.  “But you asked why I wanted you to come out with me. And I guess the best way I can put it is that I liked how you talked to me and I liked how you seemed so confident.  And I’m not always that way.” This seemed to soften her, judging by the gentle smile that rose to her lips when he said this. “So why did you agree to come out with me?”

The gentle smile turned brighter, easing some of the tension in Steve’s chest.  He realized he’d been holding his breath, and exhaled softly through his nose.

“Well, for one thing, you’re pretty hot, and I’d be an idiot to say no to a date with Captain America.”  She grinned. “And I’ll admit, part of me is wondering if I can’t double-cross you into going to my baby brother’s baseball game with me tonight so we can watch the fireworks after and make sure he doesn’t get into any nonsense.  But, honestly, you seem very sweet. And I guess I wanna get to know Steve, not Cap.” She took a big bite of her burger, and some of the juice from the meat dripped onto her plate. “Plus, a burger with you kicks the shit out of stripping any day, to be honest.”

He smiled back at her, finally letting himself ease into his seat.  He took a bite of the pancakes, now long soggy from soaking in maple syrup on his plate.

“A burger with you kicks the shit out of  _ sitting  _ in a strip club any day.  Now, about that baseball game…”

*****

It had been a long while since he’d smelled freshly cut grass and the crisp dirt of a baseball diamond.  In fact, the last time he’d smelled a baseball diamond had been before the serum, when he’d wheezed his way up to the Dodgers stadium with Bucky after school and whiffing the field had brought him into a coughing fit under the bleachers.  Bucky’d made off with a strawberry blonde in a skirt that was a little tight around the hips for three innings, and Steve had watched Al Lopez fire an out at a stolen second base over the best corn dog he’d ever had.

This time, though, Darcy had pulled a couple of camping chairs out of the trunk of her little sedan and had propped them up on the other side of the third base line, just outside left field.  Most of the people in the bleachers were decked in the stars and stripes, and the boys on the field wore star-spangled stirrups in celebration of the holiday. The air was still fairly thick with East Coast humidity, and the sky had begun to glow golden as the sun started going down.  As the boys entered inning four, Steve was starting to think that Tony had done him a favor.

“So would it be a douchebag move to ask you why you do the whole club thing?  Even if it’s out of curiosity?” He tilted his sunglasses to dim the glare glinting off one of the stadium lights.  Darcy edged her chair closer to his, letting her arm brush comfortably against him.

“Because I grew up here, and every teacher I’ve ever had, almost every adult I’ve ever known never wanted to take me seriously.”  She leaned forward, slipping her hair into a ponytail at the top of her head. “I did fine in school, but they always told me I wasn’t really smart enough to make up for my smart mouth.”  She plucked a Gatorade out of the cooler at her side and handed it to Steve before grabbing one for herself. “I went off to college for a bit, got my B.A. in sociology, shacked up with my parents for a bit...then when I moved out I thought people’d finally take me seriously.”

“But they didn’t?”

“Nope.”  She let the p pop satisfyingly at the end of her lips.  “My folks kicked Taylor out not long after, so he’s been living with me for the last year and a half.”  Steve opened his mouth to voice some kind of sympathy, but she shook her head, meeting his eyes through her own pair of shades.  “No, don’t be sorry. He’s my best friend and he’s way better off with me than he was with them.”

“I’m glad you’ve got each other, then.”

“Soon as he graduates next year, we’re getting the hell out of this dumbass town.”  She breathed it out in a sigh, fingering a loose strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail.  Without thinking, Steve reached over to tuck it behind her ear. Darcy glanced up at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Any idea where you want to go?”  He didn’t move his hand.

“Far from here.”  Her voice had turned soft.  Her lips were so close, so pink, and the curve of her Cupid’s bow so gentle that Steve was beginning to think that if he leaned over just a hint, if he caught them against his just so, they might just cast a spell on him, and she might just own him forever.  “Steve, I’m - ”

“THATABABY, LEWIS!” screamed out the coach at the third base line, jumping up and down, and around the bases flew a tall, gangly teenage boy, his helmet bouncing with every step.  He’d rounded second and slid into third by the time the center fielder was able to return the ball to the infield. Darcy had leapt to her feet and was clapping furiously, then cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed for him.

“Yeah, Taylor!” she cheered, flashing him a thumbs up when he turned to face her from third base.  He flashed her the same, and in that brief moment that Steve had been able to catch a glimpse of him, he could count the freckles on the kid’s face, he could see the chip in the kid’s third tooth from the middle, but nothing shone more from Taylor Lewis than how excited he was to see his big sister.

Steve couldn’t help the smile that clung to his lips as he clapped along.  When Darcy scooted her chair closer to him again, settling into it and into the arm that had somehow found its way around her, she couldn’t help smiling either.

The game ended in the seventh inning with a score of 4-0 to the Rangers, Taylor’s team.  After the obligatory coaches’ talk in the outfield, the boys cleaned up and Taylor came bounding from the dugout grinning from ear to ear.

“Holy shit.  Holy  _ shit _ , Darce, how’d you line this up?”  He reached for Steve’s hand immediately, grasped it firmly and shook hard.  “Great to meet you, Mr. Steve, I’d call you Mr. Rogers, but, you know, he’s a whole ‘nother ballpark.”

“You’re babbling, Tay.  And watch the language around my friends, okay?”  She elbowed him playfully in the side before reaching around for a hug, unfazed by the dirt caking his jersey.

“Captain America is your friend?” he asked incredulously, looking from one to the other, and though Steve had almost doubted it was possible, smiled even bigger.  “No way, I gotta tell Jamie - ”

“ _ Tay _ ,” Darcy chided, folding her arms over her chest.  “Nobody knows he’s down here. Give the guy a break, I’m sure he doesn’t want to sign autographs and take pictures with everyone on his birthday.”

“It’s your  _ birthday _ ?  Dude, happy birthday!  How old are you in, like, people time?  ‘Cause you’ve got one of those faces, you know?  Where you might be, like twenty-nine, but you could also be, like thirty-five, and it probably doesn’t make that much of a difference as you get older, plus you’re like, super-serumed up, and - ”  He reached out, as if his hand was moving of its own accord, and let his fingertips brush against Steve’s chest, and for an amusing moment Steve was reminded of the way that Peggy had done the same thing about seventy years ago, and suddenly it made sense as to why he and Darcy had a strained relationship with their parents.  “ - gosh, man, it’s so great to meet you.”

“Great to meet you, too, Taylor.  That was a nice triple out there, by the way.  You’ve got a good swing.”

Taylor’s face lit up, and it was as though Babe Ruth himself had clapped him on the shoulder and said the words to him.  He shook Steve’s hand again before blushing furiously, looking back and forth between him and Darcy.

“Hey, uh, kiddo, look who’s here.”  Darcy nudged him again, then pointed to a cream-colored truck that was pulling into the dirt parking lot, shiny red rims rolling through the dust.  If it was possible, Taylor’s smile grew even brighter, and as though he totally forgot about Steve, he patted Darcy on the back and bolted for the truck, tossing his batbag into the back and hopping into the passenger seat.

“Who’s that?”  Steve nodded at the pickup, folding his arms over his chest.

“His boyfriend.”  A hand had popped out of the driver’s window, wagging at Darcy, who waved back.  “Jamie’s a good kid. I’m glad they’ve got each other out here. I’d kick his ass for not coming out for Taylor’s game earlier, but he works a lot.”

“So young?”

Darcy shrugged, combing her fingers through her hair.  “Got a kid sister and his mom’s sick. He takes care of ‘em.  Like I said, he’s a good kid.” The last curve of the sun had finally descended below the horizon, and the brilliant gold of the sky was fading into deep crimson, then purple.  Darcy plopped back into her chair, pulled a thick blanket out of her tote bag, and slung it across her shoulders. “Come sit with me.”

He took his place beside her, letting her drape the blanket around the both of them, huddling closer to share heat.  Which Steve was sure he wasn’t short on, considering how close she was, the lavender in her hair drifting toward him.

His arm was around her again, and he wasn’t sure what possessed him to say it, but then he was telling her, “You know, this is the best birthday I’ve had in a really long time.”  In a voice softer than he’d used in a long time. The kind of voice he used to reserve for Peggy…

“I’m glad I could be part of it,” she mumbled, leaning so that the side of her head pressed to his shoulder.  “I’m gonna need to kiss a lot of ass for playing hooky, but it’s been worth it.” Her voice was soft, too, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a song that Steve had never heard.

“Maybe I could come around here more often.  I could take you for some more fine quality dining.”  She’d let her hand wander to his forearm, and her fingers were circling a spot on his wrist, and Steve was certain the goosebumps that sprouted up there had nothing to do with the slowly cooling night.

“I’d like that.  I’d really like that.”

They sat in comfortable silence as the chirping of the cicadas rose in the distance.  Darcy would turn every so often to glance over her shoulder at the cream-colored truck, and each time would nestle closer to Steve’s side afterward.  Not long after the sky turned inky black, dotted with clusters of stars and galaxies, the park officials started setting off fireworks. Bursts of red exploded in the sky, then white, shimmering off into oblivion when they burned out.  The sparks blew every color of the rainbow, but Steve was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on the sky. It was like gravity itself had pulled Darcy to his side, and gravity itself was pulling his face toward hers.

He kissed her under a shower of purple, funnily enough, and her lips were even softer than he’d imagined.  As the night grew darker and the sparks above them grew brighter, Steve held Darcy close, feeling her fingers thread through his hair, his own hands gently cradling the curve of her neck.

And as the sky lit up red, white, and blue, Steve was thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’d have to thank Tony when he got back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I hope you're enjoying it so far; let me know what you think ;) happy birthday Steve!


	3. don't you wanna claim my body like a vandal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve sheds light on some of his pet peeves and he and Darcy enjoy some other extracurriculars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the smut commences! Forgive me if it's a little shaky, but I don't write smut too often. Happy belated, Steve, hope you enjoy :)

There were plenty of things that made Steve nervous about Darcy’s invitation.

The first was the expectation.  Now, he may have been old-fashioned, but ‘do you want to come back to my place?’ tended to have the same meaning since the dawn of time.  Especially when her baby brother was staying at his boyfriend’s house for the night. But maybe he was overreacting, maybe ‘come watch  _ Independence Day _ at my place’ really  _ meant _ ‘come watch  _ Independence Day _ at my place.’

Which he shouldn’t have felt at all disappointed about, but for some reason, he did.

The second thing that made him nervous about her invitation was that he was really excited about this movie, had heard it was terrible and amazing at once, and he sort of had a thing about the pictures, for as long as he’d been able to watch them.

He was really hoping that she’d let him  _ watch _ the movie.  He simply couldn’t sit and watch movies with Tony anymore, because Tony liked to make smart comments about whatever it was they were watching every five minutes and it drove Steve up the wall.  But unlike his original impression of Tony, he’d gotten a real good feeling from Darcy. With Stark the relationship could only get better. He would hate to have put Darcy on a pedestal just for a pet peeve to pop in and mess things up.

God, he was stupid.  Worrying about something as silly, as commonplace as sex, and worrying about this wonderful girl talking during a movie.

Darcy lived in a little brownstone not far from downtown, on a street where the trees consisted almost entirely of blossoming dogwood, little white clouds on every branch.  The front porch bore flowers of just about every color and a welcome mat that demanded tacos for admission. Steve couldn’t help chuckling to himself as he crossed the threshold.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess.”  She kicked a small pile of shoes into order beside the doorway, most of them presumably belonging to Taylor, based on their largeness and dirtiness.  “Can I get you anything? Coffee or tea or beer or...I dunno, I’ve got some pretty great cherry-flavored sparkling water, if you’re into that.”

“Tap water would be great.”  He glanced around on their way up the stairs at the books on the shelves, the little succulents, the framed pictures of the two of them as kids.  One where a young version of Darcy had buck teeth and a red and white polka-dotted swimsuit and had wrapped her arms around baby Taylor, little curls of dark hair falling wildly down his forehead.  One where a teenaged version of Darcy had braces and a big denim jacket, and scowled menacingly into the camera while her hand rested comfortably on Taylor’s shoulder, Taylor wearing a bright yellow gymnastics leotard and smiling so hard his eyes were closed.  “You and your brother have always been pretty close, huh?”

“He was my birthday wish one year.”  As they made their way to the top of the staircase, Darcy disappeared behind a bookshelf into the kitchen, leaving Steve to glance around her living room.  It was by no means a mess, maybe except for the stack of school supplies in the corner by one of the doors that presumably led to a bedroom. He slid into a seat on the couch, fingering open the magazines that sat on the coffee table before him.  “I’d stop a tank for him.”

“You’re a good sister.”

“Thanks.”  She was smiling as she emerged from the kitchen, balancing the glasses of water in her hands.  “So how many post-1945 movies have you seen since coming to the 21st century?”

“A few, when I have time.”  She handed him his glass and set hers on the coaster on the coffee table, then leaned down to set up the DVD player.

“Got any favorites so far?”  She sat back beside him, leaning into him as the disc clicked into place.  Steve let his arm find its way around her again, and let it pull her closer to him while the screen flashed awake.

“Well, there’s  _ WarGames, Jurassic Park _ .  The original, not the sequels.   _ Vertigo _ was good, probably my favorite of the Hitchcock movies.   _ Forrest Gump _ was excellent; that Tom Hanks just seems like a class act.”  Darcy grinned.

“He’s a quality guy, for sure.”

And that was the last thing she said before pressing play.  The last thing she said as the movie wore on, as the aliens attacked, as a band of reluctant heroes saved the day against all odds.

At the end of the day, the acting was shabby, the writing was alright, and the overall movie was nothing to write home about.  But Steve was glad he’d watched it.

Just before the ending, Darcy had nodded off into his shoulder.  Her face was tucked into the crook of his arm, and her chest rose slowly and steadily against his as she slept.  Steve smiled; there was something cute about the way her lips pursed together and her brow furrowed. He tried to untangle himself from her gracefully so he could tuck her into bed, but the moment he shifted his leg out from under hers she blinked awake.

“Hey,” she said softly, digging her fingers into the front of his shirt to pull him back down beside her.  “Sorry to conk out on you. Been kind of a long, unbelievable day.”

“It  _ is _ late, Darcy.  Don’t be sorry.”

She caught sight of the clock on the wall, illuminated by the sudden flash of a firework that went off outside.  “Shit. You’re right. Have you got a place to stay tonight?”

He didn’t.  The guys had only driven up for the day, expecting to be back on their way tonight.  Bucky had texted him a few hours earlier to let him know they were on their way back to the compound.  There had been more winking emojis than he’d thought necessary.

“Uh, I can catch a cab back, or something.”  Or run. He was no Quicksilver, but Steve was known to cover a decent bit of ground in a fairly short amount of time.  Heading back to reality would take him about two hours, tops.

Darcy waved him off, finally stretching her arms over her head with a yawn.  “Nah, dude, just crash with me.”

“Are you sure?”  He almost wanted to expect her to say no.  Almost.

“Yeah, of course.  It’s a long way back, and there’s plenty of trouble to get into this time of night, not that you couldn’t handle it.”  She finally stood up and started to head across the living room to her bedroom. “And if you tell me that the couch is fine, I’m gonna explode, Rogers.”

That was how he ended up padding after her into her bedroom.  She’d decorated it similarly to the rest of the townhouse, but the primary source of light appeared to be an entire string of fairy lights tied around a branch and hung in the middle of the ceiling.  This kept the room dim but with a gentle, multicolored glow that echoed spectacularly in her pale cheeks.

“Thanks for havin’ me.  Sorry to keep you up so late.”

“Steve.”  She put her hands on his shoulders, letting her fingers fan out across the fabric of his shirt.  “Stop being sorry.”

Darcy kissed him then, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt.  He was vaguely aware of her chest leaning toward his, and bent his head to press his lips harder to hers, to feel her tongue edging forward to trace the seam of his mouth.  And then Steve’s hands had moved to her waist, his thumbs ghosting over the curve of her hips. There was a curiosity to the way that she pushed her front against him, as though she were wondering just like he was if all this were real.

“This okay?” he breathed, breaking away for just a moment as his fingertips snuck into the hem of her shirt, brushing the soft skin of her stomach.

“Mhm,” she hummed, then stood on tiptoes to kiss him again.  Her arms found their way to his shoulders, and his own hands had taken different directions, one sliding up the smooth plane of her back and the other crawling down to get a firm grip on her ass.  This drew a little gasp from her, which gave Steve the break he needed to run his lips down her neck, finding the spots that made her gasp louder when he closed his lips over them, the ones that made her sigh softly and push her thighs together when he bit down gently.

He realized after returning to her mouth that she was pulling him, taking staggering steps backwards toward her bed, so he followed, breaking only when she pulled away to pull her shirt off over her head.  Steve followed suit half a second later, before draping it delicately over an unoccupied corner of her nightstand. Darcy smirked at him.

“God, you’re a gentleman.”  She reached for him once more, cupping his face with her hands and then kissing him hard, letting her lips mold to his in the darkness.  As her tongue slipped out to part his lips, Steve was reminded of lemonade, sweet and tart and refreshing at once. He welcomed her into his mouth, swiping his tongue across the tip of hers.  She released a soft moan against his lips, a beautiful and terrible noise that made his stomach swoop and his pants feel just a little tighter.

When Darcy finally backed into her bed, Steve took the opportunity to grab her by the back of her thighs, shifting her up onto the mattress without breaking the contact between their lips.  Her hand snuck between them to loosen the button on her shorts, and Steve caught it in time to undo her zipper for her. The denim trudged its way down her legs, then dropped, forgotten, onto the floor.

The soft pink satin of her bra and panties cradled her flesh perfectly, and Steve made sure to pay special attention to the slope between her breasts, pressing his lips in wide, open-mouthed kisses down the slope of her neck to her collarbone to her sternum.  Darcy arched her back off the bed, just in time for Steve to sneak his hand up her spine to peel the clasp of her bra open with his thumb and index finger. The offending article slithered down her arms and fell to the floor, and Steve couldn’t help the satisfied sigh that left his throat upon seeing her breasts out in the open.  He satiated the heat in his chest by leaning down to run his thumb along the ridge of her nipple.

“Fuck,” she hissed, when Steve blew lightly on the opposite one, and groaned again when he closed his teeth over it, drawing his tongue lazily over the top.  “Goddamn, Steve.” Just the gentle lilt of her voice, the way that the last syllable - his name - left her lips with the slightest whine, was enough to make his cock twitch against his thigh.  She slipped a leg around his waist, a soft, keen sound dripping from the curve of her lips, and pressed her hips hard to him to feel his arousal.

“This still okay?”  He’d pressed himself up onto his elbow, and whispered the words into her ear in one hot breath, while his hand continued to make work of her breast, his fingertips leaving gooseflesh along her pale skin as they crawled up to the little bud of her nipple to give it a soft pinch.  Her hair had scattered across the covers of her bed, and the lavender emanating from it in waves was enough to make him feel drunk for the first time in years. He buried his face into her neck, but didn’t kiss it until he could hear her response.

“Hey,” she mumbled, and her hand seemed to come out of nowhere, her thumb pushing through his beard to aim his face at hers once more.  Her eyes, big and blue and curious in the moonlight, studied him a moment longer, and then her small, soft hand drifted up the side of his face, as though holding him in place.  “More than okay. Better than I’ve been in a long time.” She shifted underneath him, then leaned forward to press her forehead to his. “I wanna feel you, babe.”

He kissed her more gently than he’d meant to, but to no disappointment from either of them, for her lips reacted with the same gentleness, taking his lower lip between them so she could drag her tongue along it before releasing.  He broke away to trail kisses down her neck again, leaving a path of gooseflesh down her collarbone, her chest, a pause to take each peak of her breasts into his mouth while her leg tightened around his middle, her heavy moans echoing off the walls of her room.

He couldn’t protest to the feeling of her fingers threading through his hair, nor of their light pull on it, nor of the way that her hips bucked against him when he sucked on each nipple.  And she certainly didn’t protest to his mouth moving down the flat expanse of her stomach, nor to his tongue tracing the outline of her belly button, or to either kiss that brushed against her hips while his fingers rolled her panties down her thighs before tossing them off the bed.

He knelt between her legs at the edge of the bed the first time he kissed her, something between delight and desire stirring in his belly at the sound of her high, throaty moan when he let his tongue slip between her lips.  He pinned her hips to the bed so he could lick her clit in circles, and  _ God _ , was she warm and pink and wet, her thighs quaking on his shoulders, and every second that passed with her sighing his name and pulling on his hair made his cock tremble in his pants.

He closed his eyes as he devoured her arousal, taking in the deep, spiced scent of her slick cunt, letting his tongue flatten as it swiped up her slit and dig in again when it reached her sensitive nub at the top.

“Yes, Steve,” she gasped, her fingers tightening their hold in his hair.  “Fuck, yes, Steve,  _ please _ .”

She was getting close, and he opened his eyes to watch her gaze down at him, her brows tight with anticipation, rolling her hips against his mouth as he applied more pressure to her clit.

“What do you want, Darcy?” he asked, still half-pressed to the warmth between her thighs.  “What can I do for you, doll?” The word slipped out, like a habit he’d forgotten he had, but it made her grind her hips toward him, another precious moan tumbling out of her mouth.

Her cheeks burned adorably pink but she kept mum, digging her heel into his shoulder blade, her hands nearly yanking his hair plumb out of his head.  He smiled at the way she was squirming for him, and buried himself back into her lips. And traced his tongue over her clit again, and again, and again, until she was panting, her body writhing under his touch as though her body was on fire.

She came against his mouth with stars in her eyes and his name, over and over, on her lips.

Steve wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but Darcy leaning forward to yank him up for a kiss was somewhere near the bottom of the list.

_ Fuck me _ , she might have whispered, or it might have been his imagination, but the way that her teeth clenched over his bottom lip, her eyes ablaze with lust, told him that at least part of this was reality.

She cupped him through his pants, running her fingers along the outline of his cock in his jeans, before she thumbed over his button and pulled down his zipper.

Steve, for his part, had chosen to let his hands do as they pleased, which apparently entailed running up the smooth expanse of her back (left) and reaching down to give her ass another firm squeeze (right).  She made a sound not dissimilar from a squeak, before shucking his jeans and briefs down his legs.

“Captain America is a briefs man...who’da thunk?”

Darcy skimmed her fingers over the head of his dick, and he shuddered closer to her, letting out a breathy sigh of his own.  She giggled at this, and leaned down to take him into her mouth. The moment those plump, pink lips wrapped around him, he jerked toward her with a gasp.   _ Dear God, this girl’s gonna kill me _ .

She sucked it deeper into her mouth, and Steve could feel the tip of her tongue ghosting over his head.  Suddenly his fingers were in her hair, pulling the delicate strands away from her beautiful face, and now revealed those clear blue eyes gazing up at him, almost like she was challenging him, as she bobbed his cock in and out of her throat.  Steve’s head cocked back involuntarily, and he let loose a groan that rumbled in his chest as it left his mouth.

“That feel good?” she hummed at his tip.  Her lips curved impishly against him, and Steve had to fight the urge to moan again.

“Better than you can imagine.”  He reached for her, then, leaning forward to capture her lips with his own, and, sliding his hands up her hips to hold her by the waist, leaned her back onto the bed and edged off his sneakers, lazily kicking the rest of his clothes onto the floor.  “Can I - ? I mean, do you want to - ”

“Yes,” she whispered, spreading her fingers across the wide planes of his chest while he made his way closer to her.  “Steve. I want you.”

And so he kissed her again, feeling her tongue respond to his in kind, feeling her hands tug on his shoulders until they were chest-to-chest, and he was warm and hard against her thigh.  Her small hand dared to cross the marginal space between them and guided his cock toward her folds.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he growled into her ear.  Darcy shivered with anticipation, yet it was not blind lust that resided in her eyes when she looked at him again, but that mischievous spark that she wore so well.

“Hey.”  She rolled her hips a little, drawing a circle on his tip, eliciting a groan so primal she almost couldn’t believe it had come from him.  “You trying to hurt my feelings?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered, not skipping a beat, and pushed into her in one long thrust.

Darcy cried out.  Her hands flew to his back, her nails digging into the thick muscles around his waist.  Steve ground his teeth -  _ God _ , she was so wet and warm and fit so snugly around him he could’ve come then and there.

Instead he pushed himself up on his elbows and drew back a little before sliding back into her, her slick cunt clinging to his cock as if for dear life.  As he picked up his pace, goaded on by the hiss of promises she shouldn’t be making in his ear, he glanced down to watch her breasts bounce deliciously with every thrust.  His fingers found themselves around the wide curves of her ass, and bit down to hold her in place while he fucked into her.

“Fuck, baby,” she breathed.  She ran a hand down his back before settling it into the dimple just above his ass and grabbing, begging without using words.

The truth was, he couldn’t dream of hurting her feelings.  Because in that instant, and honestly, throughout the rest of the day, he’d felt this pull, this nag, almost, in his stomach to keep close to her.  To protect her. And, in its basest moments, to  _ have _ her like this.

Choosing to be with Darcy like this had effectively agreed with that nag in his stomach.  Doing what he was about to do would render that agreement signed, sealed, and delivered.

(Yes, he enjoyed Stevie Wonder, and would continue to pursue that interest when he wasn’t occupied with...well, things of a higher caliber in his priority list.)

“Darce,” he whispered, his rhythm growing unsteady with each new jerk of his hips.  “Darcy, I’ve got to…”

She looked into his eyes again, like she could read right through them.  Like she’d had a nag of her own all day. Then, with a hungry swipe of her tongue over her lips, she nodded.

Steve saw white as he came into her, the muscles in his lower stomach clenching as every wave of his orgasm passed from him to Darcy, and somewhere in the back of his head he was certain she was crying out, and somewhere a little further he was certain that it was his name she was saying, drinking him into her like water in a desert.

He panted back to life with his forehead pressed to hers.  Darcy smiled first, trailing her fingertips over the edge of his face, before the corners of his own lips tugged upwards.  He withdrew from her, screwing up his face as he left the warmth of her pussy and as the soft heat of his cum followed him out.  He rolled off her and onto his side, resting his head in his hand.

Her smile shifted, her bottom lip tucked sheepishly under the white of her teeth.  Even in the silence, she radiated that sort of mischievous sweetness. Steve smiled back.

“This okay?  This, uh...thing?”  His free hand made its way back to her waist, his thumb stroking absently over the soft flesh of her belly.

“Yeah.”  Her voice was so gentle he almost didn’t hear.  “You really gotta go back in the morning, huh?” She broke eye contact with him, finally, her gaze wandering down to his chest, where her fingers traveled idly, tracing his sloping muscles.

“I do.”  He slid his hand up her waist, over her breast, up her slim neck, and under her chin.  “But maybe I could...come by for some more quality fine dining? If you’ll have me?”

She paused for a moment, and Steve had to wonder just what it was that got her eyebrows so tight together, her lips pressed into a firm line when just seconds ago she’d been smiling at him with such joy in her eyes.

“By quality fine dining, do you mean Denny’s, my vagina, or, like, actual fancy restaurant dining?”

He couldn’t help himself.  He edged closer to her and pressed his lips to hers, holding her close to him for as long as he could.

“You’re goddamn adorable.  I think all of the above would suffice.”

“Good.”  She tucked herself into his embrace, her entire body curling around his, and pressed her face into his chest.  “Hope it’s been a good birthday.”

“The best, by far.  Though…” He turned for a fraction of a second to glance at the digital clock on top of her bedside table.  “...as of one hour and twenty-seven minutes ago, it’s technically not my birthday anymore.”

She grinned and pushed him playfully, and when those crystal blues finally closed and she finally fell into a restful slumber, he leaned into her touch.

The last thought that crossed his mind before the inevitable void could swallow him was that if she was the kind of trouble he could get into this time of night, he’d need to get into trouble more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think :)


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